Zhou Yihang lay in two pieces. Fleshy tendrils waved from the severed surfaces, grasping for their other half.
But his immortal body was built on the Mud Pill Secret. Now that the Mud Pill itself had been cleaved, his life force severed. The tendrils twitched and fell still.
Su Yan had named the technique World-Cleaving Sword. Before his breakthrough, his cultivation had been too weak to unleash its full power. Now, in the Gate-Breaking stage, with the great bell no longer draining his qi, he had finally unleashed it completely.
The strike had been perfectly balanced, righteous and direct. Its residual sword qi had split four ancient trees down the middle, divided exactly thirty-eight thousand four hundred leaves, and shaved a few strands of hair.
"World-Cleaving Sword," Su Yan murmured, dispersing the blade.
He had spent nearly half his qi. "Yuan Qi, move!"
The serpent lunged onto a floating boulder, coiled, and launched himself to another.
Su Yan backed away from Prefect Zhou Heng's position, then turned and leaped. He landed on a floating stone, rolled to absorb the impact, and sprang up running.
Zhou Heng watched him from a neighboring peak. The distance was nothing to a man of his power.
But another figure caught his eye. "Vice Magistrate Ling is here too."
The man was tall and thin, like a scholar. But incense offerings coiled around him like smoke. Behind his head, a book and iron brush floated in a halo of light.
This was Ling Youdao, Vice Magistrate of Yongzhou.
In the netherworld court, city gods governed counties and lived in temples. Vice magistrates governed prefectures and lived in mansions. Magistrate Xue handled Lingling's spirits. Ling Youdao was his superior, overseeing all of Yongzhou.
Ling Youdao and Prefect Zhou Heng were rivals, their powers evenly matched.
Zhou Heng's small eyes narrowed. "Zhou Yihang had only reached the second layer of the Mud Pill Secret. He was an outer member of the Zhou Clan—no access to true teachings. His death means nothing. But even our peripheral techniques are formidable. Zhou Yang was right. Xu Ying is a genius who comprehends yao arts. He must have found the path beyond the Qi-Gathering stage."
The two bull-headed yao pulling his carriage stood on their hind legs, staring at Su Yan.
For yao like them, the Qi-Gathering stage was the absolute limit. If someone had broken through, it meant salvation for their entire race.
Zhou Heng smiled at the temple floating between the peaks. "Zhou Zheng, take men and capture him alive. If you can't, drive him toward the temple. I'll visit the temple myself—and pay Vice Magistrate Ling a visit on the way."
Zhou Zheng, a Zhou Clan relative serving as judicial military officer, bowed. "Prefect, what if we encounter netherworld spirits?"
Zhou Heng's playful demeanor vanished. "This netherworld invasion struck Yongzhou first. The netherworld court is likely behind it—Ling Youdao is certainly involved. If any spirits interfere, kill them without mercy."
Zhou Zheng departed with his guards.
On the other side, Ling Youdao gave orders to his city gods. They led spirit experts away.
The two rivals faced each other. Ling Youdao smiled and stepped onto empty air. Incense offerings formed clouds beneath his feet, carrying him forward.
"Riding clouds and mist? A minor trick among techniques." Zhou Heng laughed, heaving himself from his throne. His belly rippled like a water balloon. He waddled to the mountain's edge and walked straight off.
A golden-winged roc manifestation appeared behind him—fat and enormous. The roc spread its wings, and Zhou Heng strode through the sky.
"The Zhou Clan's Thirty-Six Heavenly Stars Inner Realm Technique?" Ling Youdao's eyebrow rose. "Prefect Zhou, how many stars have you cultivated?"
Zhou Heng grinned. "Why don't you find out?"
Su Yan glanced back. Zhou Zheng's guards pursued him across the floating stones, vines connecting the boulders into bridges. Another group approached from a different direction—spirits.
"Something's wrong," the great bell said. "You're just a minor qi cultivator. To these people, you're nothing but a boy who practices yao arts. Why do they care so much? Where did you learn the Grand Unity Daoyin Art?"
Su Yan leaped to another boulder. "I don't remember when I learned it. It's been in my head since I was little."
"Think carefully. What day do you remember learning it? What happened that day?"
Su Yan tried to remember. Images of his childhood in Sujiaping rose up—his parents, his playmates, the neighbors on the street. Their faces were clear.
"My father was Xu Zhigang. My mother was Liu Sanniang. We had a dog, four ducks..."
He smiled at the memory.
Then another image surfaced—the street from the Gazing Homeward Terrace. The young tutor and the gentle woman. Their faces were blank, but they were definitely not Xu Zhigang and Liu Sanniang.
His mind reeled.
*They were my parents? No, no! The parents in my memory don't look like that!*
"I remember living in Sujiaping. My father was Xu Zheng. My mother was Yue Rou. I had a happy childhood..."
His head split with pain. He slammed his fist against his skull, roaring, eyes turning crimson.
Yuan Qi fled ahead, leaping from stone to stone. He landed, slid, prepared to jump again. Then he noticed something wrong. "A-Yan didn't follow me?"
He turned. Su Yan had leaped into the air, hands clutching his head, and was falling.
"A-Yan!"
Yuan Qi lunged to the edge. The great bell burst from Su Yan's head and caught him.
The bell strained, bells ringing wildly, barely arresting the fall. Yuan Qi sighed with relief, then slithered toward the great temple. *A-Yan will head for the temple when he wakes. Immortals protect their own. I'll wait for him there.*
Su Yan woke on the bell's surface, nearly sliding off. He grabbed the rim. "How did I get here?"
He remembered nothing.
The great bell noted his condition with growing curiosity. *A-Yan's mind isn't normal. Something extraordinary happened to him.*
"Stop wobbling, Uncle Bell."
"You're heavy! You try carrying me!"
Su Yan snorted. "I carried you when you were unconscious. I never let go, even in fights."
"You used me to smash people!"
Su Yan nearly fell and gripped tighter.
After a while, he stood up on the bell's nose, legs trembling, facing the wind.
"What are you doing?"
"Riding a bell looks undignified. I want to try standing while flying. It feels better."
"I thought you needed to relieve yourself. Don't do it into the wind."
Four stone dragons approached, clouds forming beneath their claws. Su Yan's qi was below half capacity. Riding the bell, he couldn't fight four dragons.
"Uncle Bell, descend to that mountain below!"
A peak drifted beneath them. The bell dropped toward it. Su Yan saw ancient altars in the forest below, massive idols standing guard beside them.
"Strange. If this is the Immortal Realm, why are there idols and altars?"
In the netherworld, by the Nai River, at the Gazing Homeward Terrace.
Yuan Tiangang sat before his hut, breathing in cultivation rhythm. On the terrace path, a figure approached beneath a green paper umbrella.
"That person again." Yuan Tiangang's tiger eyes blinked.
Since arriving here, he had seen that umbrella dozens of times. Every so often, the figure would pass by.
He watched the umbrella reach the Nai River Bridge and join the line for Granny Meng's soup.
"Strange person."
The figure waited for ages. Finally, it was their turn.
Granny Meng raised the ladle—and her hand trembled.
A calm voice came from beneath the umbrella. "Granny, a bowl. Make it strong."
She poured. "Your Excellency, you've been coming rather often lately."
The voice carried irritation. "Your soup's too weak. It can't seal that person's memory. The higher-ups say you're watering it down."